


Orbit of Glass

by KivaEmber



Series: Shadow Ops AU [5]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Persona Fusion, Complicated Relationships, Dating, Developing Relationship, Getting Back Together, Goro Big Bang 2020, Healthy Communication, M/M, Post-Persona 5: The Royal, Shadow Operatives, Unresolved Emotional Tension, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: “I’m not the same person I was,” Goro warned, finally looking back at him with a severe expression, “I doubt you are too. We… what we had, I doubt we can pick up from where we left off.”“We’ll just start over then,” Akira said, and something strengthened in his tone, “From scratch?”or;It takes seven years for Goro and Akira to meet again after the events of P5r.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Shadow Ops AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864810
Comments: 28
Kudos: 307
Collections: Goro Big Bang 2020, Marigolds Discord Recs





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> For the Goro Big Bang 2020 event! Please check out starrydough's artwork for this fic on [twitter](https://twitter.com/katrstjarna/status/1351607088619810816?s=20) and [tumblr!](https://katrstjarna.tumblr.com/post/640767254192144384/akiras-face-as-always-was-difficult-to-read-i)

Seven years after concluding his career as a Phantom Thief and departing back to his hometown, Akira had settled into a life of insulting normalcy. 

After slinking meekly through his final school year at his hometown, Akira returned to Tokyo to take up a career in journalism. He had gone to university to get the relevant qualifications and, thanks to Ohya nudging a few ribs and dropping his name here and there, landed a job with a reasonably well-off yet mundane newspaper, slowly cultivating a reputation as a stubborn do-gooder reporter notorious for sticking his nose into awkward places and unearthing scandals and truths. 

Compared to skulking into people’s hearts and stealing their distorted desires, such a life was positively _boring_ , even if it followed parallel to the righteous trajectory of his earlier career as a Phantom Thief. 

Goro wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

He sipped his coffee as he thumbed through the short profile, his gaze lingering on the out-of-date mugshot tucked into the far corner. He wasn’t _supposed_ to have this - the Shadow Ops kept tabs on Akira just for being a Wildcard, even if he wasn’t selected as a potential recruit _currently,_ so it was all very hush-hush _-_ but when Goro had booked his winter leave and had decided to return to Tokyo for the first time in years, well…

It was by impulse. One he was starting to regret now. 

Literal years. Literal _fucking_ years since he last saw Akira in that false reality. The memory of it was painfully stark - the glitter of tears clinging to Akira’s dark eyelashes, the way he whispered _‘I love you’_ when Goro tried to leave in a vain attempt to make it easier for them both, the heartbreak on his face when Goro told him, quietly yet firmly; _‘it’ll pass’_ and- 

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. The fact was if Akira had _any sense_ he would have moved on by now. Goro crashing into his life _now_ would cause nothing but embarrassment and awkwardness for both sides, reopening old wounds for no practical reason. It was best to evade and avoid for both their sakes. 

_you’re being a coward,_ a tiny little voice whispered in the back of his mind, _you want to see him again._

 _it doesn’t matter if i do,_ he thought back irritably, and viciously stashed Akira’s profile in his open briefcase, _it’s better that we_ **_don’t_** _, for both our sakes._

* * *

So, it made sense that only an hour after his decision to _not_ see Akira that he _literally_ walked into him at the subway. 

It had happened too quickly for him to even try to avoid it: a familiar form darting around a slow-shuffling couple in front of Goro and slamming right into his shoulder, sending him stumbling to one side with his briefcase clattering on the floor. He only realised who it was when Akira stopped to apologise and pick up his briefcase for him, grey eyes meeting his own as he straightened up and… 

Well. 

The late afternoon crowd moved around them irritably as they stared at each other in mute surprise. Goro didn’t dare move, didn’t dare _speak,_ unwilling to break the chilling silence between them as Akira’s open shock slowly darkened into something more grim-lined and narrow eyed. He heard the creak of leather as Akira’s gloved hand tightened around the handle of his briefcase, fingers flexing as if he was only just holding back the urge to smack him with it. 

Akira wasn’t wearing his glasses, Goro observed belatedly, confused and flustered in equal measure at this realisation. His old rival’s furious eyes were in plain view, their devastating beauty no longer contained behind an unstylish layer of false glass and dorky frames. Combined with the sharp, mature cut of his jaw and cheekbones, Goro realised that time and adulthood had been _very good_ to Akira, refining the unpolished diamond that he had been into a true jewel. 

He felt sort of annoyed about it. Did Akira really need to become even _more_ attractive? It was unfair.

“Seven years,” Akira finally said, snapping Goro out of his half-dazed staring, “And you couldn’t even send me a text to say you’re _alive_.”

There it is.

“Why, hello to you too, Joker. It’s nice to see you again after all these years,” Goro said flatly and held his hand out expectantly. He wanted to teleport out of this situation entirely, wanted to _escape_ before this whole reunion became an actual, _legitimate_ reunion, and not some unfortunate random encounter that lasted less than thirty seconds, “My briefcase, please.”

Akira tucked the briefcase closer to his side, just out of reach, _“Seven_ _years,_ Akechi.”

“Yes, yes, it’s been a while,” Goro growled irritably, dropping his hand when he realised his briefcase was going to be held hostage until he had this out with him. Shit, “You really want to do this here?”

Akira opened his mouth and for one horrifying moment Goro really thought he _was_ going to cause a scene, right there, in the middle of Shibuya station - but thankfully, Akira stopped and scowled at him instead, jerking his chin towards the Fukutoshin Line. 

“Let’s go to the Crossroads,” Akira said tensely, “I think you owe me a drink, anyway.”

Goro hesitated, clenching his jaw until pain throbbed between his temples. He could just tackle him and wrestle his briefcase back - but that would probably just end up with him getting the police called on him by a well-meaning bystander, and he really couldn’t afford that, but, god, he couldn’t afford seeing _Akira_ again either because- 

_well, too late now,_ he thought angrily, _akira knows i exist again. he won’t rest until he gets what he wants._

And Akira’s journalistic career, which Goro totally did _not_ obsessively follow, proved that he was very very good at ferreting out information from the unlikeliest of sources. 

“Fine,” he snarled out, “As you wish.” 

He shouldn’t have come back to Tokyo. 

* * *

After an extremely uncomfortable train ride brimming with silent unresolved tension, Goro sulked after Akira into the Crossroads. This early in the evening, there weren’t many customers, but the woman at the counter greeted Akira in a husky voice warm with familiarity, most likely the bar owner. When her gaze landed on Goro, she frowned, looking between the two of them as she picked up on the taut air between them. 

“Who’s this?” the bar owner asked suspiciously, “Another ex?”

 _another_ **_ex_** _?_ Goro thought in bewilderment as Akira said; “Something like that.”

“This better not be messy like the last one,” the bar owner said, “I’ll throw you both out if you start a fight.”

“We’ll be civil, Lala,” Akira lied through his teeth, and with a curt motion of his hand, gestured for Goro to follow him to the booth furthest from the bar. It was right in the corner, as private as it could be, but Goro hesitated to sit down as Akira slid into his seat, resting the briefcase on the table in front of him. 

“Another ex?” Goro asked blankly. 

“Yeah,” Akira grunted, “You know, all part and parcel of making a new life for myself after you _apparently died._ ”

Goro wasn’t sure what to say to that. He should’ve been pleased, really - it showed Akira had moved on, that his ‘love’ had been nothing more than a school boy crush after all. That in the end, it really hadn’t been anything substantial. It really had passed like he said it would and he was out there, meeting new people and getting into relationships (however rocky they may be). That was good. Good.

He should be pleased. 

(he wasn’t)

“Goro,” Akira said, clearly growing tired of Goro standing awkwardly next to the booth, “Sit down. Please.”

He sat down. 

Nothing was said for a long, awkward moment. Akira was peering at him closely, almost hungrily, as if memorising Goro’s face in case he vanished again - which, well, was a legitimate fear. After this Goro was going to get an international job in Europe or something to put as much physical space between him and Akira as possible. Almost ten million people in Tokyo and Goro ran into _him_. It was absurd. 

He clasped his hands together on the table, lowering his gaze. Staring at Akira’s face was making something long-buried clench almost nauseously in his gut. He ruthlessly crushed it, squeezing his fingers until it hurt. 

Another ex. Fuck, why couldn’t he stop thinking about that?

“I thought you were dead,” Akira began, his tone very soft. 

“Mm.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Akira asked, and Goro unwisely looked up, met those sad, devastated eyes. It was like the false reality all over again. He could almost hear the whispered _‘i love you’_ and felt a shudder prickle up his spine from the memory of it. He remembered how it had made his heart hurt, sweetly and agonisingly, and he didn’t want to go through it again. 

“Because I needed space to sort my own shit out,” Goro said honestly, “Away from Tokyo, Shido… you.”

“Me?”

Ugh. He didn’t want this talk. 

“I didn’t want…” Goro paused. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words, how Akira’s affection and budding love _terrified the shit out of him,_ made him feel just as trapped and confined as Shido and the Detective Prince persona had ever been. Goro hadn’t wanted to claw out of the false reality only to have his new, raw self defined by Akira. He wanted to be free, completely, and that included the choking, wing-clipping bond of love that Akira tried to snare him in. If he had stayed… would he have ever managed to muster the strength to find his own way out of Akira’s shadow?

“Didn’t want _what?”_ Akira demanded shortly, disrupting his thoughts.

Goro bristled at the sharp tone and snapped impulsively; “I didn’t want you _suffocating me_.”

“Excuse me?” Akira looked stunned, “Suffo- I _never_ suffocated you. I decided to let you go after Maru-”

“Oh, how kind of you, to give _permission_ for me to decide my own fate,” Goro growled, “But that’s exactly what I mean. That.”

Akira’s jaw visibly clenched, “What.”

“You- _you_ decided _everything,”_ Goro hissed, leaning forwards, pressing his hands hard against the edge of the table, “I _let_ you decide everything. I wasn’t sure how much- if I could…”

He leaned back, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He didn’t continue.

“...did you trust me that little?” Akira asked quietly. 

_i was frightened of you,_ Goro did not say, _frightened at how much power i willingly let you hold over me._

“Yes,” he said instead, staring hard at the table between them, “You- you had your own… expectations. For us.”

“Oh,” Akira said. It was a quiet little noise, an incredulous exhale of a painful realisation, “You thought I’d… try to control you too?”

“You already were,” Goro murmured, “Not intentionally, but…”

“Still,” Akira said, “That didn’t mean you had to _ghost_ me-”

“If I told you I was alive, you would have wanted to know where I was, who I was with, if I was _safe,_ ” Goro snapped, “You wouldn’t have _moved on,_ you would have waited for me- would have kept _telling me_ that you were _waiting.”_

Akira didn’t reply. The guilty look said everything. 

“Unintentionally or otherwise,” Goro said, “You would’ve pressured me into wanting to… to go back to you, to just… I couldn’t. Akira, I couldn’t. I needed to _get away_. Do you understand?”

“I…” Akira looked conflicted, “If you told me that, I would’ve given you space.”

“That’s what I mean, Akira,” Goro said tiredly, “I wouldn’t have told you that. I didn’t… know what I wanted, then.”

The only reason he managed to ‘ghost’ Akira in the first place was because bouncing from the hospital to prison, and eventually, to the Shadow Ops didn’t leave him with much opportunity to reach out to the remnants of his past life. His second chance had come with a long list of draconian conditions, and it was only now, seven years later, that he was trusted to walk around as a free man without supervision, a brand new life for a brand new person. 

Honestly, it was the best damn thing to happen to him. 

“So, does that mean…” Akira sounded breathless, a little like he was about to start crying, even though his expression was impressively neutral and his eyes dry, “Is this you saying that you don’t want anything to do with me anymore? For us to go our separate ways and, what, forget about each other?”

It’d be easier for both of them if Goro said ‘yes’. If this had been over text or even over the phone, Goro would’ve been able to muster the coldheartedness to say ‘yes, never contact me again’. But, face to face? Looking at Akira and seeing his neutral expression waver, to see his open heartbreak crack open as if his entire world was ending once more - Goro couldn’t stand it. 

Fucking- weak, sentimental piece of _shit-_

“As if I could ever forget you, Joker,” Goro muttered bitterly, looking away from Akira and saying to the wall; “I was planning on contacting you eventually, on _my_ terms, but…”

“Fate had other ideas,” Akira murmured thickly.

“I’m not the same person I was,” Goro warned, finally looking back at him with a severe expression, “I doubt you are too. We… what we had, I doubt we can pick up from where we left off.”

“We’ll just start over then,” Akira said, and something strengthened in his tone, “From scratch?”

Goro exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead. He really shouldn’t have come to Tokyo. 

“Fine. Yes, from scratch,” Goro caved, and frowned when Akira held out a hand across the booth, “What?”

“Kurusu Akira, journalist,” Akira introduced himself, his expression bright with a Joker-esque smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Really?” Goro deadpanned, but… well, fine, he’ll indulge the symbolic gesture. With only some hesitation, he reached out and clasped Akira’s gloved hand. His grip was firm and warm, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of their first meeting, years ago, at the TV station… 

“Akechi Goro,” he returned, letting the grip linger, caught up as he was in nostalgia, “Agent.” 

“ _What_ \- really?” Akira boggled a little before laughing, “ _Agent_. Like an idol manager or…?”

“Shut up, Kurusu,” Goro sneered, squeezing his hand harder. He smiled thinly when he felt Akira retaliate by clenching back, the both of them staring challengingly at each other, waiting to see who would wince first from the crushing handshake. 

“I did wonder about the suit,” Akira purred, his gaze becoming heavy-lidded as he scrutinised Goro’s outfit. It was the standard black suit and tie that most Shadow Operatives wore when out in public, the thin kevlar vest deftly concealed beneath the black jacket, “A _secret_ agent, then?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a secret if I just _told you,_ ” Goro murmured, “You’re a journalist, aren’t you? Investigate.”

With that, Goro loosened his grip on Akira’s hand. Reluctantly, Akira did the same, and they pulled away from each other. There was an odd tension between them now, but not a negative one. Just two half-strangers, half-old friends sizing each other up, trying to see where the differences and similarities were. 

“I like your hair,” Akira said suddenly, gesturing towards his own head, “The ponytail suits you.” 

“It’s a pain to deal with,” Goro said, but inwardly he preened at the praise, curling his fingers to stop himself from fiddling with his hair like a stupid school boy complimented by their crush, “I see yours is still a lost cause.”

“People _like_ my curls,” Akira said self-consciously, reaching up to play with his forelock. He still had that nervous habit, huh.

“Yes,” Goro hesitated before just going for it, “Your past exes, for example?”

Akira made a face, lowering his hand, “You really want to talk about that?”

“I’m curious,” Goro said simply, even if his interest wasn’t simple at all. He wanted to know- well, he wasn’t sure _what_ exactly, but, if he had to deal with random exes coming out of the woodwork being all _awkward,_ he wanted to be forewarned. Also maybe snoop on them a little too, to see what kind of idiot would fuck up a relationship with _Akira_ , of all people.

(he pointedly ignored the fact that he was one such idiot that fucked up a relationship with Akira, but he was technically an outlier and shouldn’t be counted)

Akira drummed his fingers on the table, chewing his bottom lip before saying; “It’s not important.”

“Hmm.”

“How about you?” Akira continued, “Any, uh, exes or...?”

That was clumsily direct, “No, none.”

“Oh,” Akira didn’t bother hiding his relief, “Cool.”

Silence lulled between them. It was slightly awkward. 

“I should go,” Goro said, grabbing his briefcase set on the table between them, “I have-”

“Wait,” Akira gripped his wrist, halting him, “You’re just leaving?”

“I _was_ in the middle of something,” Goro lied. Truth be told, he needed some time on his own to process this… mess. Maybe grapple with the overwhelming urge to cut his visit to Tokyo short and flee to China or something for the rest of his leave, “My life no longer revolves around you, Kurusu.”

“Right- I mean, yeah, I know,” Akira still didn’t let go of his wrist, his gaze uncertain as he peered up at Goro from beneath his eyelashes, “But, can we exchange numbers or…?”

Oh. Right.

“Give me your phone,” Goro said shortly.

A few minutes later and phone numbers were exchanged. Akira said nothing as he inputted his number into Goro’s sizable contact list - he had made friends amongst the other Shadow Operatives, a clear sign that he was living a full life entirely separate from Akira. In contrast, Akira’s contact list was full of familiar names and surprisingly small. He hadn’t moved much beyond his Phantom Thief days, hm?

 _i would’ve thought he’d have a legion of new friends, considering his career,_ Goro thought to himself, feeling concerned.

“There,” Akira said, and turned Goro’s phone around to show him the background image, “Who’s this?”

“Hm?” Goro looked up after locking Akira’s phone, and smiled when he saw Koromaru’s grey-muzzled face smiling from his screen, “Oh, that’s Koromaru. He’s quite old now, though.”

“Never thought you’d be a dog person,” Akira said, something strangely wistful in his tone, and they exchanged phones. Akira fidgeted with his, “Or, uh… looks like you know a lot of people now, too.”

“As I said, I’m not the same person I was seven years ago,” Goro said carefully.

“Yeah,” Akira fidgeted with his fringe, rubbing a lock of hair between his forefinger and thumb, “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

Was that good or bad? He was quite hard to read. 

Goro stowed his phone back into his pocket and stood up from the booth, taking his briefcase with him. This whole encounter had launched him off-balance, and once again he cursed his fucking luck. Ten million people and he still ran into Akira when he didn’t feel ready. 

_i never would’ve felt ready,_ Goro admitted to himself. 

“I’ll be around for the next two weeks,” he said, adjusting his grip on his briefcase, “If I’m not busy, I’ll… be free to catch up. With you.”

Ugh. _Smooth._ Idiot. Dumbass.

Akira’s gaze lingered on his face, his phone held loosely in his grasp. Goro’s contact profile was plain to see on the screen.

“I’ll message you soon,” Akira said, like he was swearing a solemn promise. 

“Of course you will,” Goro sighed, unsure if he was resigned or fond, “I’ll be waiting then.” 

He lingered for a moment longer, the pair of them just staring at each other. It should’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t - or maybe it was, and Goro was just numb to it now. Akira’s eyes were just as hypnotic as they were seven years ago, drawing him in and making it hard to break eye contact first. 

But he managed it, eventually. He looked away with a small scoff at himself, and resolutely walked away. 

It felt a little like that last night in Maruki’s reality. It also felt different. Goro couldn’t put a name to the strange feeling in his gut as he left the Crossroads. It was both a bad and good feeling, and he honestly could do without it. 

God. This was why he _hated_ Akira.

* * *

Goro lasted about three hours after his fateful encounter with Akira before succumbing to the urge to cyberstalk. 

He hunted down Akira’s social media and stormed through his mutuals and timeline with a grim focus. He had only kept tabs of Akira’s _professional_ life before, and even then it had been through the safe buffer of the Shadow Ops’s regular reports on a stray Wildcard’s movements and activity. Goro hadn’t wanted to know _anything_ about Akira’s personal life because- 

Well, why would he? Perfect fucking Akira who everyone loved, who got sprung out of jail and his criminal record expunged because he somehow amassed an army of bloodsworn loyalists that moved heaven and hell for him, who tripped into happiness again and again and again while Goro had to beg and claw for his fucking _scraps-_ no, why would he want to know? Why would he want that comparison as he reforged the broken fragments of his life into something useful?

Goro hadn’t wanted to know - and he was starting to realise that willful ignorance might’ve been a mistake. 

Akira’s social media was worryingly _sparse._ He didn’t post often, his friend count was tiny - the few mutuals he had were the rest of the Phantom Thieves (Morgana even had an account, though Goro had a feeling it was probably managed by Akira for him) and a handful of other people - some which Goro vaguely recalled: Hifumi, the Shogi player (what a random acquaintance) and someone called ‘Shinra’. Akira followed some other accounts - mainly news accounts and one that solely posted cute cat images - but aside from that… 

Feeling an irritating niggle of concern, Goro scrolled through the most recent posts on Akira’s timeline. It had been over three days since he last updated, and it was mostly about how he was taking a break from work for a week. Ann, Ryuji and Makoto liked the post, but aside from that there was no further interaction. 

“This isn’t right,” Goro said aloud. The reality had completely obliterated his bitter expectations of Akira’s happy ending, and he _really_ didn’t like it. He’d rather stew over Akira’s popularity than worry about his _reclusiveness._

He dug deeper. He went to the very beginning of Akira’s social media - a month after he left Tokyo, according to his earliest post - and proceeded to _scrutinise._

It started out encouraging enough. Plenty of interaction with his friends, plans for the future, for meet ups, interspersed with several pictures of Akira and Morgana existing happily. There were a few other photos as well of the rest of the Phantom Thieves, them at the beach, at a fancy restaurant (courtesy of Haru no doubt), dwindling over the years from the full group to trios, then pairs, and then…

 _what am i doing?_ Goro asked himself in a sudden bout of clarity. 

He sat upright from where he had been hunched over his laptop, greedily scrolling through Akira’s social media, and scowled in disgust at himself. Was he _really_ digging through seven years worth of social media for _Akira?_ Not even a fucking _day_ after running into him and Goro was already forcibly contorting his new life around him without even thinking about it.

He slammed his laptop shut and picked up his phone, determined to distract himself from the ‘Kurusu Black Hole Phenomenon’, as he had dubbed it back during his days as a teenage assassin. 

One of his chat groups was active. He checked on it. 

_Y.H: im not sayin i hate fish im just sayin that there’s a limit to how many iceboxes full of trout i can take_

_S.S: You can Never have Too Much trout_

_Y.H: why do u capitalise random words like That_

_S.S: You Know Why_

_K.A: how much trout counts as too much trout?_

_Y.H: 2 iceboxes_

_S.S: 5 icebox_

_Y.H: what r u gonna do with 5 iceboxes of trout?_

_S.S: the cats won’t feed themselves_

_Y.H: do u see what i have to live with ken. do u see_

_K.A: at least you’ll never starve?_

_G.A: what the fuck are all of you talking about_

_S.S: trout_

_K.A: how many iceboxes of trout is too much goro?_

_G.A: it depends what you’re using it for. If it’s for feeding the neighbourhood cats, which is what i suspect Souji is doing, then you can never have too much trout. From the moment you feed them the first morsel, an insatiable horde of cats will descend upon you, growing in number by the day, begging for more and more until all of your waking hours are dedicated to sating their infinite hunger._

_Y.H: dude_

_S.S: my wildcard senses tell me you are stressed about something_

_G.A: i am Not Stressed_

_K.A: is your vacation not going well? Do you miss koromaru? :c_

_G.A: my vacation is going Fine and of course i miss koromaru_

_S.S: doubt_

_Y.H: sus_

_G.A: fine_

_G.A: i. Encountered. an old friend with Complicated Feelings attached_

_Y.H: akira_

_S.S: akira_

_K.A: akira_

_G.A: im fucking blocking you all_

He didn’t block them, but he did throw his phone onto his bed in disgust. He couldn’t even escape Akira with his co-workers!

Though, what did he expect? The Shadow Ops had known about his whole sordid relationship with Akira - well, parts of it - and as the years rolled on by and his restrictions had eased once his rehabilitation was completed, he would get occasional comments and prompts on what to do about the ‘Akira Thing’.

Akira Thing. There was no _thing!_

Or, maybe there was now. Goro didn’t know. Seven years and Akira still managed to fill him with deep, intense emotional turmoil just by existing in his general proximity.

His phone buzzed, and Goro eyed it warily before moving over to pick it up. He cringed when he saw the message that flashed on his screen. 

_N.S: HAVE U SPOKEN TO UR OLD FLAME YET? Y/N PLZ RESPOND_

Why were Shadow Ops full of relentless gossips!?

After sending a very curt message saying yes, he had spoken to Akira, his RIVAL and it was all very platonic and not at all saturated with intense unresolved sexual tension, Goro rubbed a hand over his eyes and _sighed_ from the very depths of his soul. He knew, _he knew,_ he should’ve gone to Europe for his vacation. 

His phone buzzed again, and Goro very cautiously peeked at it. It was Akira. 

_A.K: hey, do you want to go out with me tomorrow?_

_A.K: as in a date go out_

_A.K: not go out out_

_A.K: fuck_

_A.K: you know what i mean_

Goro found himself smiling at the bumbling awkwardness - and quickly schooled his expression. No, he was meant to be pissed off. 

_G.A: No, I don’t think I do. Could you clarify what you meant?_

_A.K: asshole_

_A.K: Goro Akechi, oh handsome Agent, will you please go out with this lowly creature tomorrow if it pleases you?_

_G.A: Well, since you asked so nicely…_

_G.A: Let me think about it._

It was a little mean, but Goro wanted some level of control over this whole thing. He already knew his answer would be yes, but let Akira sweat a little. He deserved it for sending Goro into such an unpleasant emotional upheaval. 

_A.K: I await with bated breath._

Goro narrowed his eyes. The fucker already expected him to say yes, didn’t he? Or was he bluffing confidence? 

_G.A: Try not to suffocate._

The glove was thrown into the ring either way. 

(he found himself smiling again)

* * *

Goro accepted the invitation in the morning - after he spent the entire night staring at his ceiling. 

_i thought a vacation was meant to be_ **_relaxing,_ ** he grouched to himself as he got ready for the day. While he no longer dedicated himself to the insane beauty ritual he had tortured himself with during his Detective Prince days, he still put some effort into his morning routine, so it was a good twenty minutes before he walked out of his bathroom looking less like a corpse, and more like the roguish Shadow Operative he had rebuilt himself into. 

He picked up his phone to check if Akira saw his reply (he did) and frowned at the time and location his old rival sent him. 

“Leblanc?” Goro said aloud, surprised Akira would choose such a… divisive location. He was certain Sojiro would have more than a few words for him if he dared to stick his traitorous snout through the door of his cafe. While they had reached a very cool truce during the days of Maruki, Goro wasn’t sure if that still held considering… everything. 

He did ghost Akira for seven years. It stood to reason the rest of the Phantom Thieves might view that as yet another betrayal. 

Or - it was a betrayal. It _was_ a betrayal! What was Akira _thinking,_ trying to reconnect with him when Goro made a habit of storing his knives in his back?

He stared blankly out of his hotel window, not even seeing the Tokyo skyline as he anxiously gnawed over his decisions and choices. He could take back the invitation, or he could gently rebuff Akira after this one pity date, or he could just leap feet first into this disastrous idea and have a front row seat to it exploding in their faces like Pompeii. He found himself equally petrified of all three prospects. 

Wasn’t Goro meant to have his shit together by now?

He sighed and stowed his phone, picking up his briefcase. He had foregone his Shadow Ops uniform with its comforting layer of kevlar, and instead wore a black turtleneck sweater with a pair of dark dress trousers. He thought he looked rather handsome when he inspected his reflection, but he looked so far removed from the Goro Akechi of seven years ago. He was an entirely different person.

 _good,_ he thought viciously to himself. 

He travelled to Leblanc not long after that. Walking through the streets of Yongen-Jaya filled him with a bizarre sense of wistful deja vu, noting that while some stores had closed, others remained. His pulse jumped the closer he drew to Leblanc, his gloved hand tightly gripping the handle of his briefcase until his palm itched with sweat. 

Akira waited for him outside of the cafe. Wise. Sojiro is less likely to murder him out here. 

“Akechi,” Akira greeted. His smile was reserved, but Goro could see a heavy tension ease out of his shoulders the moment he saw him. Did he think he wouldn’t come? “You’re here.”

“I am,” Goro said, drawing to a cautious halt just out of arm’s reach, “Hello.”

An awkward silence bloomed between them. Akira was staring at him like he expected him to vanish into smoke if he blinked. 

Goro cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the weight of that gaze, and looked away, “I’m surprised you called me out here. I would’ve thought I’d be unwelcome.”

“What?” Akira refocused on the present, “Oh. Well. Uh, I wasn’t planning on us staying here.”

Of course. Goro felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Maybe a small part of him had hoped Akira would say _‘oh, well, Boss forgives you’_ , no matter how unrealistic it was. Leblanc held a special, fond place in his heart, even when mired with… the whole Phantom Thieves shit. 

“Where are we going, then?” Goro asked.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk, revisit some old haunts,” Akira said, fidgeting with his fringe. There was a strange smile playing about his lips, nostalgic and fond and very nervous, “Jazz Jin is still open, if you can believe. We can finish our day there, if you’d like.” 

It sounded like a very unstructured, spur of the moment plan - not Goro’s cup of tea. But he looked at Akira’s face and found he didn’t have the heart to criticise. Akira looked so anxious and hopeful, like something in him had grown brittle overnight. Goro had an urge to press down on an emotional pressure point until it snapped, to see that teary-eyed face from seven years ago, so open and raw and 

...

He carefully folded up those thoughts and tucked them away to examine in disbelief later, because _what the fuck._

“That sounds fine,” Goro said quickly, to cover up his delayed response, “Where to first?”

Akira brightened up considerably, and he dared to move closer to him, one hand hovering as if it wasn’t sure if his touch would be welcome, “How do you feel about smashing balls for an hour?”

Goro knew immediately what Akira meant, but he still found himself slowly raising his eyebrows at his old rival, his mouth curving into a wry smile, “Is that a euphemism?”

“What- _no,_ no, I mean,” Akira’s cheeks went red, “Batting cages.”

Goro chuckled, “I knew what you meant, don’t worry. That’s fine. I could really hit something right now.”

Akira’s hand, carefully, rested on his bicep. Every nerve in Goro’s body lit up like a damn firework, and it took everything he had not to flinch away from the touch. Akira held his gaze reverently. 

“Yeah,” Akira said quietly, “I thought you would.”

His fingers trailed from Goro’s bicep to his elbow, all the way down to the inside of his wrist. Goro didn’t move, just held Akira’s stare, barely breathing. 

The moment between them yanked taut, electrified, then Akira pulled away with an odd smile. 

“So, yeah,” Akira said, “Batting cages.”

“Batting cages,” Goro repeated like an idiot. 

The Kurusu Black Hole Phenomenon was in full effect, he noted distantly. It was hard to resist, Goro finding his attention sliding to Akira like a satellite trapped in the gravity well of a collapsing star. He resented him for it, but he also felt settled, like something that had been missing inside of him had finally clicked back into place. 

_co-dependency is bad,_ Goro told himself as they set off for the batting cages, _co-dependency is bad. co-dependency is_ **_bad_ ** _._

Maybe if he said it enough times, he’ll build a resistance to Akira’s hypnotic charms. 

(yeah, one could dream)

The batting cages were virtually unchanged from the past seven years - maybe a little more rundown, but the bats were serviceable and the ball machine was still a demon in disguise. Goro regretted wearing the turtleneck now, but he just rolled up his sleeves and endured the stifling heat of swinging a bat. At least he tied his hair up. 

“I swear,” Akira said breathlessly after they went through twenty swings together, “You weren’t this good before. Have you been practicing?” 

“In a way,” Goro said, not at all winded. Akira didn’t seem as physically fit as he used to be, “There’s a batting cage near where I live in Nagoya. I vent my frustrations in it often.”

In fact, his therapist had told him to find hobbies that were physically taxing to help work out his pent up aggression. Initially he had let Akihiko coax him into ‘training’ with him, but after limping away from one too many gruelling sessions that left his bones feeling like they’d been pulverised, he eventually settled on something less fatal like the batting cages at Junpei’s suggestion.

He wasn’t going to be an amazing baseball player any time soon, but he sure could slam a ball with every atom of his rage and send it soaring skyward.

“Oh? So that’s where you are now?” Akira asked, pausing to swing at an incoming ball. He hit it with a solid _‘CRCK’_ , and it went flying just below their target height, “Nagoya?”

Ah, fuck. Well, Goro supposed Akira would’ve gotten it out of Futaba eventually. He was surprised she hadn’t doxxed him yet. 

“Yes,” Goro confirmed.

Akira didn’t reply. They lulled into a companionable silence, striking balls until they ran out of time. Goro felt considerably more relaxed when they left, if a bit loose and sweaty, and redid his hair tie while Akira openly watched him with an unreadable look. 

“Do you like it there?” Akira asked abruptly, “Nagoya?”

“I wouldn’t have lived there for four years if I didn’t,” Goro replied, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear. Akira’s gaze tracked the movement. 

“Where were you before?”

In a medically induced coma, then prison, then rehabilitation; “Port Island.”

“That’s in Tokyo.”

Goro ignored the unasked question. How could he explain he had been essentially under house arrest with the Shadow Ops? It had been, admittedly, a very kind and bewildering sort of house arrest, where punishment had been replaced with genuine rehabilitation, and therapy, and a whole lot of painful self-reflection. Goro was still amazed Mitsuru had looked at the feral, wounded creature he had been and seen something worth salvaging in that pathetic mess. 

“Sorry,” Akira said quietly, “I won’t push.” 

He always did that, Goro thought. Akira was not a confrontational creature, even with Goro. He certainly had a spine and he used it when provoked and furious, but otherwise, he prodded then retreated, always frightened to push too hard in case… 

Seven years ago, Goro always thought Akira so mysterious and complex. Now he realised that they had been too similar to understand each other 

“Akira,” Goro said, hearing his old rival’s breathing hitch at the name, “I didn’t escape punishment for what I did under Shido. I’m still paying off that debt now.”

Akira looked at him. There was a familiar glint in his eyes; an echo of Joker, but defanged, “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying this second chance of mine did not come free,” he smiled wryly, “They never come free.”

They stopped near the old cinema. The doors were bordered up. Shame. He had fond memories of coming here with Akira. 

“But I don’t regret my decision to rebuild myself away from you,” Goro continued, giving Akira an intense look, willing him to understand, “I hated the person I was back then. I would’ve stayed as him, if I never left.”

Akira’s face, as always, was difficult to read; “I loved the person you were.” 

Goro’s heart did a pathetic squeeze-thump that made him hate-love Akira more, “Did you really?”

“Yes,” Akira stepped closer, until he was almost standing on his toes. His eyes were bright, “My feelings didn’t pass, Goro. They _didn’t.”_

They had. Akira just didn’t realise his love had fossilised into an idealistic fantasy of loving him. 

“Hm, then you might find it difficult to fall in love with _me,”_ Goro murmured, turning away from him, “If your heart belongs to someone long dead.”

Akira grasped his forearm - his hold was hesitant, like he was afraid Goro would pull away if he dared to grip too hard. His touch felt like a hot brand, too intense and too intoxicating at the same time, dragging Goro’s gaze back to him against his will. 

“ _You’re not dead,”_ Akira said with a terrifying sort of intensity, low and hoarse and brittle, “You’re still _here.”_

The unease that Goro had tucked away last night came creeping back in the face of this… he didn’t know how to describe it. Desperation? Some sort of slow-cooking mental breakdown only just breaching the surface of Akira’s stoicism? Everything about his old rival seemed simultaneously too still and too trembling, and again, the urge to press that brittle pressure point reared up in him. Could he make him cry, right now?

Akira’s hand on his forearm slid down and pressed his fingers against the inside of Goro’s wrist. He could feel his pulse throb from the pressure. 

“I am,” Goro finally settled on saying, his tone carefully neutral. He couldn’t look away from the hint of devastation lurking behind those too-bright grey eyes, “I’m still here. I’m not dead, Akira.”

It took three long-slow unsteady breaths for Akira to absorb those gently spoken words. His death-grip loosened on Goro’s wrist. 

“Right- yes,” Akira said, and let go. He took one large, jerky step backwards, hands cramming deep into his pockets, “Yes, I know. You’re here.”

“Yes,” Goro said, a bit inanely, scrutinising his old rival before letting the strange behaviour go. He wasn’t sure how to approach it, and the storm had seemingly passed. 

Akira gave him a weak smile before turning away, “We should get something to eat.”

Not the smoothest of topic changes, but Goro let it slide, “Any specific place in mind?”

Akira glanced back at him, and his smile was more _him,_ less melancholy and pained; “Miel et Crepes? You took me there before, remember?”

“I remember you assaulting me and making me look like a moron, yes,” Goro said flatly, but he followed Akira as he led them towards Yongen-Jaya station, “You’re seriously in the mood for crepes _now?”_

“Hey, trying to keep up with you made me hungry,” 

“All that sugar…” Goro muttered, but it was mostly for show. 

They slipped into a conversation that could tentatively be called comfortable as they journeyed to Miel et Crepes. Every so often Akira’s arm would brush against his, or his fingers would gently curl around his wrist, fingers pressing into his pulse point, too quick and too sudden for Goro to really react to it before the fingers pulled away. The fourth time it happened, he understood what Akira was doing. Against his better judgement, he pretended not to notice. 

He pretended not to notice a lot of things, as their ‘date’ wore on. 

He pretended not to notice Akira staring at him hungrily, and at times, worriedly, like he expected Goro to vanish into nothingness if Akira didn’t pay him enough attention at all times. He pretended not to notice how Akira had so little to discuss about his life, only eager to talk about _Goro._ He pretended not to notice how Akira rarely spoke about the other Phantom Thieves, despite them all being bloodsworn friends by the end of everything. He pretended not to notice how _brittle_ and _lonely_ Akira seemed to be. 

Goro merely logged everything away, quietly, building a profile of the Akira of now. It wasn’t a flattering one. 

“You okay, Goro?” Akira asked him as they meandered from Miel et Crepes and went window-shopping. Even when a shell of himself, he was still damnably observant, “You’re a little quiet.” 

“Fine,” Goro lied, meeting Akira’s gaze and giving him a smile, “Just thinking.”

The terrifying thing was: Goro was doing better than him. Emotionally, mentally, _physically,_ Goro was in a better place than Akira, who was lagging behind, chained to the past and dully watching everyone leaving him behind. It was- it was _wrong._ Akira shouldn’t be so stagnant, so _lifeless._ He was _Akira._ He was who drove Goro to _be better_ when Mitsuru fished him out of that prison cell and offered him a chance. In case their paths did cross again, Goro didn’t want to be the pathetic loser drowning in Akira’s shadow. He wanted to be his _equal._

Instead, Goro had raced so far ahead he could no longer see Akira behind him. 

It wasn’t right. He needed to- to do something. 

He needed to get _his_ Akira back.


	2. Part Two

The date ended anticlimactically with only a few minor hiccups. Akira had been extremely reluctant to say goodbye, but Goro had firmly told him he’ll see him tomorrow and that had been that. He needed to figure shit out.

Since that moment outside of the closed down cinema, where Akira had grasped his wrist and stared at him with that devastated desperation, a cloying unease had dogged Goro’s every step. Tiny, little observations and details, harmless on their own, had converged into a disturbing picture. 

It just didn’t compute in his mind. Akira had always been… he had always been _more_ than Goro. More special. More perfect. While Goro had performed degrading tricks for scraps of acknowledgement, Akira had bravely forged his own path. Akira had been blessed with the Wildcard ability just by existing. Meanwhile Goro had the ability fucking _cracked out of him_ courtesy of Wakaba’s research. Akira had friends, while Goro had been utterly alone. 

It was supposed to be simple: Akira was the hero, and Goro the disgraced villain. But instead it felt like reality had gotten things mixed up and they were now living each other’s epilogues. It didn’t make sense. 

“I need an emotionally stable person,” Goro told the ceiling, and fished out his phone. 

_G.A: akihiko_

_G.A: as one of the more emotionally stable people i know, i need your opinion on something._

_G.A: if an old friend you haven’t seen in about say 7 years, give or take, begins obsessively checking your pulse and getting upset when you make death jokes, and also looks like they’re about to have a cataclysmic mental breakdown whenever you leave their sight for more than five minutes, despite being a usually well-composed individual who was always annoyingly unaffected by such things_

_G.A: should you be concerned_

Goro anxiously waited for a good twenty minutes before he got a reply, seeing Akihiko’s typing bubble appear and vanish multiple times during this long wait. 

_A.S: Is this Akira?_

For fuck’s sake-

_G.A: lets say hypothetically speaking it is_

_A.S: First of all._

_A.S: You ghosted him for seven years, despite everyone telling you that was a terrible idea._

_A.S: So there’s that._

_G.A: i had my reasons for that._

_A.S: I know._

_A.S: There’s no clear-cut right or wrong about that situation, since it was complicated._

_A.S: But._

_A.S: You should try looking at it from Akira’s point of view._

_A.S: I know empathy is your biggest weakness, but really try. It’s up to you on how you handle the situation, but you did cause it so you need to take responsibility for it._

_G.A: akihiko_

_G.A: i was hoping you would conjure some magical solution like a nice speech i could give to akira that would fix this unpleasant situation_

_A.S: That didn’t happen with you, so why would it happen with him?_

This wasn’t the second opinion that he wanted. 

Goro chewed on his thumbnail, disliking the irritating truth Akihiko was firing at him. Then again, that was why he had messaged the man. If he wanted his ruffled feathers smoothed down he would’ve messaged Souji who was easily distracted when shifting the topics to cats, fishing, or his little sister Nanako. 

_G.A: i don’t know what else i can do_

_G.A: there are other things that i’m concerned about._

_G.A: he seems reclusive? distant with those friends of his he was practically bosom buddies with. he should have a legion of slavishly devoted fans following him around or something, practically a household name because he discovered an amazing scandalous scoop on some corrupted politician. instead he’s moping around after me???? why????? is he mentally deficient?????_

_A.S: It sounds like you’re annoyed at him for not meeting some unrealistic expectation you had of him._

_G.A: hey_

_A.S: People change, Goro. You did. It took seven years, but you turned yourself around._

_G.A: we all know my ‘redemption’ was undeserved_

_G.A: if anything akira should be where i am_

_G.A: he seems unhappy instead_

_A.S: I never said for the better. Change is change, good or bad._

_G.A: will you stop sounding like a fucking fortune cookie_

_G.A: no sorry, you’re right_

_G.A: i’m frustrated_

_G.A: maybe i should drag akira to nagoya and set him up with my therapist_

_GA: for therapy_

_G.A: i mean_

_A.S: I’m not going to tell you what to do but I don’t think this situation can be solved with kidnapping._

_G.A: it’s fine i’ve kidnapped him before_

_A.S: Hm._

_G.A: it was a consensual kidnapping where i fake-murdered him_

_G.A: in retrospect that was incredibly fucked up_

_A.S: Wait._

_A.S: Before we get any deeper into this, I want to get some facts straight first._

_G.A: ok_

_A.S: Back when you were coerced into being a supernatural hitman using your Persona, you encountered Akira who was also a Persona-user and a Wildcard. You both utilised the Metaverse for your own ends._

_G.A: yes_

_A.S: During this time you two also entered some complicated rivalmance, where you were attempting to capture Akira as the Leader of the Phantom Thieves to pin the blame of your crimes onto him._

_G.A: you make it sound very villainous saying it like that but yes, that’s the gist of it_

_A.S: This culminated in you consensually kidnapping and fake-murdering him?_

_G.A: well i thought i actually murdered him_

_G.A: it was a bait-and-switch with his cognitive self._

_G.A: did i not explain this to you before? im sure i told some of you this story on peri-peri chicken night_

_A.S: I think I missed it._

_G.A: i arranged for the police to arrest him because i planned to murder him. but i fake-murdered him, because he had a plan to trick me, which he pulled off flawlessly despite his plan being a ramshackle plot of insanity that never should have succeeded. so technically speaking, the kidnapping was consensual, because he needed to be kidnapped to trick me into thinking he was dead, because he knew i was coming to murder him._

_G.A: akihiko im concerned you have been typing for fifteen minutes_

_A.S: I don’t even know where to begin with this._

_A.S: I thought Junpei and Chidori’s relationship was complicated._

_A.S: I now know otherwise._

_G.A: their relationship is complicated? it seems rather straightforward and simple to me_

_A.S: So much makes sense now._

_A.S: Anyway._

_A.S: Kidnapping him, consensual or not, to see your therapist in Nagoya isn’t an option._

_A.S: You should just talk to him._

_A.S: It sounds like you two are long overdue for an honest heart-to-heart._

_A.S: Maybe once you have aired your issues and come to a mutual understanding, things will fall into place?_

Goro wrinkled his nose at this sound advice. Talk to Akira about it? Goro might’ve changed considerably since he was an angry, self-destructive teenager, but he hadn’t changed _that_ much. Talking to Akira about it was a last resort option.

So, keeping Akihiko on read, since Goro was now in a mood to have his mood validated rather than advised, he turned to a different chat: the one with Souji in it. 

_G.A: how do you make things not awkward with a friend who you have complicated feelings for_

_S.S: i thought you blocked us_

_J.I: oh ho ho so its finally happened_

_G.A: oh no youre here_

_J.I: i knew you went to tokyo to hook up with your old flame_

_J.I: called it_

_G.A: this was not planned!_

_G.A: and he isn’t a flame!_

_G.A: he is my rival_

_G.A: or was_

_G.A: the line got blurred near the end_

_J.I: rivalmance_

_G.A: akihiko called it that too and i hate how accurate it is_

_S.S: wait so you’ve moved into the acceptance stage now?_

_Y.H: MY SENSES TINGLED IS IT FINALLY HAPPENING_

_J.I: IT’S HAPPENING BRO_

_Y.H: BRO_

_G.A: im leaving_

_S.S: NOW AIT_

_S.S: wait_

_S.S: serious mode activated_

_Y.H: oh shit_

_S.S: what do you even want with akira?_

_G.A: what do you_

_G.A: mean_

_S.S: well do you want not awkward as in, be friends, or not awkward as in, get back together, or just, not awkward as in get closure and never see each other again_

_J.I: oh huh. that’s a good question_

_G.A: i came here because i didn’t think you would give legit advice souji_

_G.A: you’ve disappointed my expectations_

_S.S: im a wildcard_

_G.A: don’t say it_

_S.S: WILDCARDS ARE UNPREDICTABLE_

_Y.H: im sorry partner but that saying got old like five years ago_

_J.I: but for real_

_J.I: what do you even want_

_J.I: with akira i mean_

_J.I: you gotta have some idea what you want out of him before you start trying to change your relationship yknow_

_G.A: stop giving me good advice!_

_G.A: that involves self-reflection_

_G.A: i already had this with akihiko_

_S.S: did he tell you to get your head out of your ass_

_G.A: he was polite about it but yes_

_J.I: good ol’ akihiko_

_G.A: i suppose i want to try_

_G.A: more than friends with akira_

_G.A: something like rivalmance but without the you know_

_S.S: attempted murder?_

_Y.H: ??_

_J.I: oh yeah, that peri-peri chicken night_

_J.I: that was messed up_

_G.A: it wasn’t that messed up_

_S.S: you shot your boyfriend in the head_

_Y.H: wait WHAT_

_G.A: i didn’t shoot him._

_G.A: i shot his cognitive clone_

_Y.H: WHICH PERI-PERI CHICKEN NIGHT WAS THIS?!_

_S.S: you weren’t there_

_J.I: okay so let’s put a pin in that_

_J.I: if you want to make things less awkward with your old flame_

_J.I: and you want to get back together with him_

_J.I: then just_

_J.I: t a l k t o h i m_

_J.I: like, yknow, a well adjusted person or something_

_Y.H: are we just ignoring the. that._

_S.S: yeah_

_S.S: or maybe you could just sleep with him_

_G.A: what_

_J.I: uh don’t think that’s a good idea souji_

_S.S: it is listen_

_Y.H: oh no it’s gonna be a terrible idea_

_S.S: maybe things are awkward because you left things unresolved when you faked your death and ghosted him for seven years_

_S.S: and both of you have changed_

_S.S: if you sleep together, and realise the spark isn’t there, then you’ve gotten it out of your system and you can make a clear-conscience decision to stay as friends. If the spark is there then the ice is thoroughly broken_

_G.A: souji even i know that’s a terrible idea_

_G.A: im not going to fuck him then dump him!_

_S.S: you already expecting there to be no spark?_

_G.A: no!_

_G.A: but in case there isn’t!_

_G.A: that would hurt him deeply if he felt something and I DIDN’T!_

_G.A: i’ve already ruined his life enough_

_G.A: ugh this is a terrible idea!_

_G.A: i need akihiko to yell at me_

Despite typing this, Goro didn’t return to Akihiko’s chat. He left his phone resting on his chest, staring up at his ceiling feeling more conflicted than before. 

There wasn’t an easy solution to this, was there? 

Goro sighed and rolled over, checking his phone again. Akira had messaged him. 

_A.K: hey i just wanted to let you know i had fun today_

_A.K: thanks for coming out with me_

_A.K: i’ll see you tomorrow?_

Goro hesitated. Maybe the answer was to return to what he did before: ghost him. If he cut him out of his life, would it force Akira to realise he could do so much better without Goro? Or would it make him worse? Should he reach out to the other Phantom Thieves and ask what the _fuck_ they’ve been doing to let Akira’s spiral into… _this?_ Or did they reach out, and Akira was resistant to their attempts to help because he was just as self-destructively stubborn and stupid like Goro?

Too difficult. This was too difficult. To stay or to leave. Akira wasn’t his responsibility, he couldn’t _change him_ if he didn’t want to change, but… could he… 

_G.A: Sure._

_G.A: But I’m picking the date spot this time._

Goro sighed at himself. So much for vacation. He was well and truly locked in Kurusu’s orbit for the next two weeks, wasn’t he?

_A.K: sure! looking forward to it :)_

Yes, he was. 

* * *

They ended up going on a date every single day. 

Every. Single. Day. 

It wasn’t a terrible thing. Despite Akira being a shell of himself, Goro… enjoyed spending time with him. He saw promising glimpses of the old Joker here and there, whenever he goaded him into a challenge or a competition. Darts, billiards, batting cages, fishing (yes, Goro was desperate enough to go _fishing_ with him), and the arcade, interspersed with more relaxed outings when Goro needed to _do something else_ to break up the monotony of rivalry.

It was a hypnotic and addictive push-pull phenomenon. Goro wanted - _wanted so badly_ \- to unearth the Akira he _knew_ was there, buried beneath this brittle shell, and it yanked him back by the scruff of his neck every day. He kept thinking, maybe if he showed Akira he was alive and _here,_ it would help resolve whatever baggage Akira was still carrying around about it - all without Goro having to verbally confront it. Akira will become _Akira,_ and then they’d… 

What? They’d what?

Goro didn’t know. The uncertainty of it was _agonising._

( _“As everyone else has told you already,” Souji said candidly, after Goro called him in the early hours of the morning on day ten of ‘dating (?) Akira Kurusu’, “Just talk to him about it, since you shot down my one-night stand idea.”_

_“But I don’t want to talk to him about it,” Goro said a little petulantly._

_“Then I’ll talk to him for you,” Souji offered, and Goro endured a moment of horror at the thought of Souji trying to matchmake between him and Akira, “Oh, better yet, what if I come down and pretend to be an ex of yours to make him all jealous? I can dress up in my sukeban outfit and-”_

**_“No,”_ ** _Goro snarled, and hung up before he could finish.)_

So now here they were, day eleven of Goro’s vacation, literally less than two days before he had to return to Nagoya, and he still wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel about Akira Kurusu. 

He should never have come back to Tokyo. 

“I always thought your fashion obsession was a bit for the Detective Prince persona,” Akira said conversationally, as they drifted through one of the many fashion stores in Harajuku. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his casual tracksuit bottoms and unzipped jacket, “Considering you didn’t seem to care during… y’know.”

That was how they referred to their time in Maruki’s false reality: _y’know._

“I like dressing up nice,” Goro said simply, “But you’re half-right: the fashion that I had as Detective Prince wasn’t my _style.”_

“Oh? I thought you looked _cute_ in those sweater vests~”

Goro didn’t rise to the bait, “I wore what was, essentially, a social status symbol. When I was a child, those financially well-off tended to wear those, so it’s what I emulated back then.” 

Akira blinked, looking a little wrongfooted at this blunt bit of honesty, “...sweater vests were a status symbol?”

“An outdated one,” Goro admitted. They drifted close to a rack of clothes - turtlenecks. He eyed a white one and then scrutinised Akira’s slouching, slovenly appearance. He did wear the Shujin turtleneck nicely… 

“During the false reality,” Goro continued, unhooking the turtleneck off its rack, “I was occupied with other things. I wasn’t concerned about my fashion then. Straighten up.”

Akira did so, bewildered when Goro held up the turtleneck against him, “Uh?”

“Maybe black would be better…” Goro mused, returning the turtleneck and rummaging through the rest of the rack, “Or maybe slate grey…?”

“Goro?”

“Shut up, I’m thinking,” Goro snapped, finding one that he deemed suitable, “Straighten up again- will you stop _slouching,_ Akira? You’ll get scoliosis before you’re thirty.” 

Akira stood up straight. Goro heard something in his spine click from the foreign action, and he gave him a disapproving glare. Honestly, Akira needed to take care of himself more. 

“Why are you getting clothes for me?” Akira asked him carefully, as Goro weighed between cool or warm grey colours. 

“Because you’re wasting your looks, shuffling around in that,” Goro sniffed, “Also, I want to. Why? Do you want to do something else?” 

Akira gave him an unreadable look before something softened in his gaze, something bright and hopeful, “No. I’m happy with this.” 

Goro scoffed and feigned interest in the clothing rack, that weird squirming feeling in his belly distracting him. He couldn’t tell if it was guilt or - something. He was, essentially, stringing Akira along, wasn’t he? For all these dates, they hadn’t once done anything… romantic, and Goro didn’t plan to either. 

What did he want out of this? What did he want from Akira, exactly? He still didn’t know the answer. 

“We could go with white?” Akira suggested, breaking him out of his brooding thoughts, “It’s what I wore for Shujin, remember? I thought it suited me fine.” 

Shujin… the past… 

Abruptly, Goro felt that turtlenecks wouldn’t do at all. 

“Let’s try something different,” he said, stepping away from the rack and moving off to a different part of the store, Akira following on his heels like a lost puppy, “I don’t think turtlenecks will suit you.” 

“What? I look amazing in them-”

“No.” 

For it seemed, as much as Akira clung to the past, Goro was slipping into it as well. His Akira, this Akira, the potential Akira, all mired and mixed up in what he used to be… if Goro had changed into this, and Akira had changed into _that,_ then what use was it to hunt for something that no longer existed? Even if he got Akira ‘back’, it wouldn’t be… the same… 

_(“change is change, good or bad.”)_

God damn it, Akihiko. 

Maybe he _should_ talk to Akira. 

Goro glanced over at him, who, for once, didn’t seem so _brittle._ There was a liveliness that hadn’t been there almost two weeks ago - an energy that made him quick to smile and his gaze warm. It was alarming to have _this_ Akira as a comparison to how he’d been when Goro had bumped into him.

Was it solely because of Goro? What will happen when he leaves again? 

“Something wrong?” Akira asked, when Goro stood and stared at him for a good solid moment.

“...just trying to gauge what colour would suit you,” Goro lied, turning away from him, unable to smother the troubled feeling bubbling low in his gut. 

He couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

Goro will have to, ugh, have a _heart-to-heart_ with him. 

* * *

Of course, he didn’t _talk_ to Akira that day. Goro felt like he needed to marshal a battleplan, an avenue of attack and an escape route, in case everything went south and Akira cried or something. Goro was unsure if his heart could endure such a blatant show of devastation and come out intact. He had tomorrow, and then he was leaving the next morning. He should… think of a place to hold the talk…

Goro stared up at his hotel room ceiling, something he had all but memorised due to how much he had scowled at the stupid thing. His phone was clasped against his chest, feeling it buzz occasionally when one of the chatrooms he was part of got a notification. He didn’t check it. He needed to think what _he_ wanted, not what everyone else thought he needed. 

“I want Akira,” Goro told himself, “But not _this_ Akira.”

And that was the sticking point, wasn’t it?

Akira wanted him, no matter which Goro it was; the broken, angry child he had been, or the somewhat more stable, put together adult. Akira professed he loved both of them, but he couldn’t, could he? Had he deluded himself? Was he only in love with the _idea_ of Goro? Had these past two weeks encouraged that delusion, or curtailed it? Akira didn’t check his pulse as much nowadays, didn’t stare at him with such open, desperate hunger, but instead - warmer, more intense, he smiled more… 

Goro groaned and rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow. This had been such a big fucking _mistake!_

His pulse still raced when Akira looked at him. His pathetic, stupid heart flopped inside his chest cavity and squeezed inside out whenever he touched him. He _looked at him_ and still felt that muddled, fiery spurt of _hateadmirationpassion_ that he was belatedly recognising as deep, envious longing. He wanted Akira, wanted him so viscerally - wanted to choke the life out of him while also keeping him close. 

Such conflicting feelings, Goro didn’t know which one to listen to. 

_just talk to him,_ Akihiko said in his head. 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled into his pillow, but he wriggled his phone free from where it was trapped between his stomach and bed, “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

Yet, when he unlocked his phone and checked the notifications - he froze.

For right at the very top: _Alibaba._

“Oh no,” he said, hesitating before opening the chatroom Alibaba had made. Ignoring her would only make her more vicious, he was sure. 

_Alibaba: hello, akechi_

_Alibaba: do you have a moment to talk?_

If anything, the faux-politeness just put Goro more on edge. He’d rather she’d spam his phone with offensive images and insults than conceal her intentions like this. He rolled onto his back, sitting up and digging his heels into the bed, his body tensing up like he was preparing for a fight as he unwillingly waded into the metaphorical ring. 

_G.A: I have time._

_Alibaba: good._

_Alibaba: i’m not going to ask where you’ve been these past few years._

_Alibaba: i have already discovered that myself. tell mitsuru kirijo she needs to update her server security for the tokyo branch._

Goro winced. 

_Alibaba: i’m not going to try and understand why you did what you did. it’s done._

_Alibaba: what i’m more interested in is what you’re doing now._

_G.A: Are you giving me the shovel talk, Oracle?_

_Alibaba: something like that._

_Alibaba: you know how akira’s been by now, right?_

_G.A: A shell of his former self._

_Alibaba: hey_

_Alibaba: that isn’t fair_

_Alibaba: he’s changed, but he also hasn’t been happy in a long time_

_Alibaba: to be honest, he was starting to remind me of me, before my heart was changed_

_Alibaba: i was getting worried. but he wouldn’t talk to any of us about it and continued to shut himself away, becoming more and more distant..._

_Alibaba: but then you come back from the literal dead, and it’s like… he’s happy again_

_Alibaba: i just want to know: are you staying or leaving?_

_G.A: You know the answer to that._

_G.A: I have a job and a life separate from him now._

_Alibaba: don’t dodge the question_

_Alibaba: you know what i mean_

_Alibaba: if you ghost him again, abandon him…_

_G.A: If you think ordering me to stay by his side will work, let me correct your assumption: it won’t._

_G.A: It isn’t fair to pin all of Akira’s happiness and mental health on *me*. I told him back then to forget about me. To move on. I still think he should move on from me._

_G.A: I won’t take responsibility for his inability to do that._

_Alibaba: then at least_

_Alibaba: decide by tomorrow if you’re staying in his life or not_

_Alibaba: don’t ghost him after you return to nagoya_

_Alibaba: don’t keep stringing him along with hopes that he can have something with you if he just waits long enough_

_Alibaba: tell him to it straight tomorrow_

_G.A: You want me to commit to a choice._

_Alibaba: either tell akira you’re staying in his life and in what capacity_

_Alibaba: or cut him off entirely and STAY AWAY FROM HIM FOREVER_

_Alibaba: understand?_

_G.A: I understand._

_Alibaba: good_

_Alibaba: i hate that you’re the only thing that seems to give him happiness_

When Goro tried to reply to that, he only got an error message: _invalid number._ With a low noise of frustration he tossed his phone onto the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He hated it too. 

“You never make things easy, Joker,” he mumbled into his knees, but he felt like he had finally come to a decision. 

Futaba’s ultimatum had given him an idea. 

It was time to draw the line in the sand - for good. 

* * *

The battleground Goro chose was Miel et Crepes. 

Truth be told, he chose it because he was too cowardly to go with Jazz Jin. Even now, his memories of that place were warm and sepia-toned, and the last thing he wanted was to sully his feelings about it in case things went… badly. After all, there was a high chance this would go wrong, terribly, awkwardly wrong, worse than 2/2 all those years ago, because this time Goro couldn’t fake his death to escape any potential emotional fallout from it. No, this time he’d have to take responsibility for it, and _live with it._

Somehow, that was more terrifying than redeeming himself for all those murders he committed. 

“Are you okay? You seem… tense.” 

Goro twitched, his fingers tapping an agitated, staccato beat against the table. They had the window seat, and Goro had kept his gaze glued outside the moment they sat down, knowing he’d lose his nerve if he even so much as glanced at Akira before he said his piece.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, “Just thinking.”

“Hm,” Akira sounded doubtful, and there was a quiet, metallic tapping noise of a spoon against a teacup, “You seem angry.”

“I’m not.” 

“He says angrily,” Akira muttered _sotto voce._ Any lingering amusement seeped from his voice when he followed up with, “Did I do something?”

 _That_ startled Goro out of his brooding, and he turned to give Akira a bewildered look, “What?”

“Did I do something?” Akira repeated, his expression firm, “You haven’t looked at me since we got here, and… I mean, if I did do something…”

“Not everything revolves around you, Joker,” Goro huffed, “I have problems outside of you.” 

Though, in this case, it did revolve around Akira, being the fucking emotional black hole that he was. Goro was overcome with a restless, violent anxiousness, so he started ripping up the Danish pastry he had ordered but hadn’t touched, decimating it into shredded flakes. 

“Um,” Akira said. 

“It’s not you,” Goro gritted out, once he ran out of pastry to shred, “Actually, I lied. It _is_ you, but it’s also me. It’s both of us that’s the issue.”

“Okay…” Akira frowned, but there was a hint of trepidation in his gaze now, a tension in his shoulders that said he was bracing himself for a fatal blow, “This sounds like the beginning of a break up speech.”

Goro let out a rough barking noise that might generously be called a laugh, “Were we even dating?”

Akira said nothing to that. 

Goro brushed his fingers clean of any lingering pastry, turning his gaze back out to the street. There was a taut tension between them, and he could see Akira’s reflection in the cafe’s storefront window. He looked pale and grim, a far cry to the earlier happiness that he had for the past few days. 

“I’ll be returning to Nagoya tomorrow,” Goro said after a deathly silent pause, keeping his gaze fixed on the street outside. It felt like a lifetime ago, where Akira sloppily disguised him with mussed hair and borrowed glasses to avoid overeager fans. There was no risk of that now: Akira and Goro were both nobodies in the grand scheme of things, unknown, with no potential for this small, private moment to be interrupted. 

“I know,” Akira murmured. 

Goro kept looking out at the street. The next words were lodged in his throat, struggling to come out. Akira must’ve read them in his expression regardless. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to stay,” Akira continued, his words slow and careful, “You’ve made your new life and want to live it, I get that. So, I was thinking that, maybe, instead, I could broaden my horizons as a journalist and see if I could get a job down there. In Nagoya, I mean, so we can-”

“Don’t do that,” Goro said, finally looking at him. 

Predictably, Akira looked both hurt and mulish, “Why not? It’s my career.”

“We both know you’re not doing it for your career,” Goro said bluntly, leaning forwards on his crossed forearms, “Akira, I don’t want your happiness dependent on me.”

Akira’s gaze lowered and he fidgeted with his coffee cup, the chink of china sounding as it grated against its saucer.

“I’ve tried, Goro,” Akira said very very quietly, “You think I haven’t? After you- _left,_ I tried so hard to move on, but it was… everything was dull and tiresome, and everyone already had dreams they wanted to work towards, but mine, it was…”

He didn’t finish. Goro knew what Akira’s dream had been, knew it had been crushed the moment Maruki’s reality had crumbled away. 

“But now you’re back and we can finally _start over,”_ Akira’s fingers stilled on the cup, his gaze still lowered, “Can’t I… can’t I be _selfish,_ for once?”

“You’re not being selfish in the right ways,” Goro said, and he gentled his tone for him. He paused, then cautiously reached out, let his hand settle over Akira’s still clasped around his coffee cup, and felt it tremble. 

“I want you to really think about what you want out of this- out of _me,”_ Goro told him, “I want you to live for _yourself_ first, before giving up parts of your life for me. You barely know me, Akira. Two weeks of casual dates hasn’t changed that.” 

“I love you,” Akira said miserably. 

“You love the _idea_ of me,” Goro said, unable to conceal his bitterness, “The angry, lonely fool, who could be _saved_ if only you poured enough love into him. Akira, it was never going to work, the way I was. It would’ve ended with us being miserable and despising each other, or trying to murder each other - _again.”_

“You don’t know that,” Akira said stubbornly. 

Why did he care about this bullheaded- 

“I want you to _get your shit together,”_ Goro snapped, squeezing Akira’s hand painfully tight before letting go, “And I’m not talking about a half-assed attempt so you can tell me you tried. No, I want you to _actually_ start living for yourself separate from me, before I’ll even _think_ about us getting serious. Understand?”

Akira stared at him. 

“Reconnect with your friends,” Goro ordered, holding Akira’s gaze with a hard, commanding stare, “Start putting effort into your job - or get a new one, if you don’t want to do journalism. Start taking care of yourself. Fucking hell, Akira, just get a _support network_ that isn’t solely Morgana.”

“I-I talk to Futaba too,” Akira defended himself weakly. 

“Akira,” Goro said frostily, _“Get a life,_ or I won’t let you into mine.” 

“I…” Instead of wilting like a weaker man would’ve, Akira squared up to Goro’s harsh words, his eyes narrowing challengingly - it was a flicker of the old Joker, beaten but not yet dead, “I have a life.”

“Oh yeah?” Goro raised his eyebrows, “Doesn’t seem like much, what _little_ I’ve seen of it.” 

Akira huffed like an agitated bull, “It’s- I’ll show you. Six months from now.”

“Oh?”

“Six months,” Akira repeated, his eyes bright with something indescribable, “I’ll show you that I’m worthy of you.” 

And what a statement that was. Hadn’t it always been Goro trying to be worthy of _him?_

 _i never am, and soon never will be,_ Goro mused, but strangely the thought didn’t hurt. 

“A bold claim from a near shut-in,” Goro drawled, but his posture softened, his smirk holding less of an edge, “Forgive me if I keep my expectations low.” 

Akira smiled, and it was absolutely breathtaking. 

“In which case, you wouldn’t mind turning it into a bet?” Akira said with faux-innocence, “Since you’re so sure I’ll fail and all.”

“A bet?”

“If I win,” Akira said, and there was something vibrant in his gaze, like the heart-thumping fear before you did a leap of faith, “You’ll go out with me.” 

Goro couldn’t look away from him, “And if _I_ win?”

Akira fidgeted with his cup, lowering his gaze from Goro’s. His smile turned rueful, “What would you want? If you win?”

Goro thought about it. What did he want? Even now, after two weeks with Akira, he couldn’t solidly say what he _wanted_ out of him. He wanted Akira to be his equal, to experience the same happiness and success as him, to have the epilogue he _deserved_. Did Goro need to be in the same picture for that to happen? What if he’s actually a detriment to that? If this bet didn’t galvanise Akira to improve and focus on his own wants and needs, because Goro is there, leeching away his self-worth, would it be best that he removed himself entirely, no matter how painful it would be?

What he wanted was... 

“Happy,” Goro said quietly, “I’d want you to be happy, even if it meant I wouldn’t be there.”

Akira stopped fidgeting with his cup. 

“If I win,” Goro said, a little louder, firmer, “Then, you’ll have another six months. Again and again, until I deem you satisfactory.” 

“Goro…” Akira looked slightly stunned, “That’s… not how bets work.”

“Well, they do now,” Goro muttered, his face feeling stupidly hot. He glared a hole through the table, refusing to look at Akira, “Take it or leave it. Those are my terms.” 

“...I accept,” Akira said after a long pause, “I do.”

It sounded almost like the acceptance of a marriage proposal, with how breathless and overjoyed Akira sounded. Goro was sure steam was coming out of his ears at this point, and he huffed loudly, tilting his head enough to hide behind his hair. 

“Good,” he said gruffly. 

Akira shifted in his seat, and Goro saw him extend a hand over the table, palm up. 

“Shake on it?” Akira asked, his tone mischievous. 

Goro grimaced, but he lifted his head and reached out, clasping hands with his longtime rival, friend and potential… something else. His hand was warm, fingers calloused, and a thrill zipped through him at the contact. He unwisely locked eyes with Akira, and became trapped entirely in the hypnotic pull of that warm gaze. 

“Wait for me, okay?” Akira asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “Let me be selfish and wait for six months, at least.” 

And Goro should say something cutting, something like ‘you’re so sure you’ll succeed first time’? But he didn’t. The words were stuck in his throat, because he saw a glimmer of what Akira _could be,_ there and then. No longer a shade, sluggishly going through the motions of life and trailing in Goro’s cold shadow. Akira’s eyes were warm and bright with determination and confidence, his mouth curved in a crooked smile. It punched what few words Goro _could_ say clear out of his chest. 

“Okay,” he said instead, dazed and hushed, “I will.”

Akira squeezed his hand and let go. 

And, for the first time since he ran into him, Goro could only think _‘thank god i came back to tokyo’._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! A somewhat bittersweet ending, but i am tempted to do like an epilogue follow up where akira 'wins' the bet...
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this fic! 
> 
> (Note: someone pointed out a chronological mistake in the previous chapter where i said 'four years' instead of 'seven years' in regards to how long goro's been gone. I've done the correction so it should all match up now! this is what happens when you spend two months on a fic, your eyes just skim over paragraphs and don't catch continuity errors fhdfhd. thank you jay for pointing it out!)


End file.
